


Brothers

by Ollieollieupandfree



Series: Legolas' Origin Story [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, How Do I Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ollieollieupandfree/pseuds/Ollieollieupandfree
Summary: Randir wants to be Elladan and Elrohir's brother. Elrond shows Randir the twin's mother. Ink is involved.





	Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Look! Randir gets to be happy in this one! Sorry it took this long to actually write this. Also! Leave in the comments want you want to see next? Because I don't really have any ideas at this immediate moment.
> 
> HMU on Tumblr @im-basic-but-ur-the-bitch or as Mod Manwe @incorrect-middleearth-quotes

Brothers

 

Randir had a hard time fitting in in Imladris. Everyone was very nice, but not the sort of nice that someone is when they like you. More the sort of nice that someone is required to be when you are the foster son of the lord of their land. It didn’t help that Randir was one of the only two elves in Imladris to have blond hair. The other being Glorfindel. Besides, Glorfindel had pretty blond hair. Like spun gold. Randir’s hair was the color of ash. The same color of his mother’s body after it had been burned by dragon fire, and of his mother’s hair itself. Of course, Randir was unaware of this at the time and instead merely compared his wistful hair to the ash that sat in the Hall of Fire.

 

‘Elrohir, Elladan,’ said Randir one night as the three brothers sat in their room. Randir’s night terrors had gone away the week before, and they were all glad for it.

 

‘Yes, Randir?’ replied Elladan.

 

‘Do you think I would fit in more if I had black hair, like you two?’ asked Randir, tugging at a lock of his perpetually moving hair. It was a bothersome thing, his hair. As it was fine and silky, and seemed to move even when there was no perceivable wind.

 

‘You would fit in more, certainly, but I like your hair,’ said Elladan.

 

‘Yeah!’ agreed Elrohir, ‘It looks like doves that fly by sometimes. And sometimes, it looks like the pepper that the cook puts on food we’re not allowed to eat!’

 

‘Is that a good thing?’ asked Randir.

 

‘Of course,’ chorased the twins in unison.

 

‘But,’ said Elladan, ‘If you would like dark hair, I’m sure we could darken it in some way.’

 

‘I would,’ said Randir, ‘I want to look more like you, so we can be real brothers!’ Elladan bit his lips, but refrained from making a comment.

 

‘All right!’ cheered Elrohir, ‘We could use some of the ink Erestor keeps in our school room?’ 

 

‘That could work,’ agreed Elladan, reluctantly. He was rather fond of his foster brother’s ashen hair, but he was even more fond of making Randir happy.

 

And so, the elflings took off to their school room, moving much more silently than any Man could, and still quieter than most adult elves could. When they arrived at the school room, Elrohir quickly picked the lock and they entered the room. They nodded at each other, and soon absconded with as many ink bottles as each could carry. If Erestor ever figured out where all those ink bottles went, he never let on to the elflings and they never bothered asking.

 

‘So how do we do this?’ asked Elrohir.

 

‘We could dip Randir’s comb in ink and then run it through his hair?’ suggested Elladan. Elrohir grabbed their washing bowl and dumped the water out of the window. The plants would be glad for the extra water, thought Elrohir.

 

Randir helped the twins with the ink, opening up the bottles and pouring them into the bowl so they could more easily dip the combs into it.

 

The boys laughed as Randir shivered at the cold ink, and soon went the route of leaning him over the basin and dipping his hair in, stirring it around with one of the play knives they had.

 

And so it was that the next day, Elrohir and Elladan showed up at breakfast with their hands stained black. Randir followed a few minutes later. His hair as black as ink, small spots of it dotting his reddish-gold skin like freckles and a smile that was never happier in all his time in Imladris. Erestor shot Elrond a look and then gestured towards Randir. Elrond set his silverware down and cleared his throat.

 

‘Randir, my child,’ said Elrond, leaning forward and gazing intently at his fosterling. Randir smiled brightly at him.

 

‘Yes, ada?’ Elrond barely suppressed a surprised look and a smile at the elfling’s referral to him as ada.

 

‘You have changed your hair,’ said Elrond.

 

‘Indeed, ada. Do you like it?’ asked Randir. Randir tossed a lock of ink stained hair over his shoulder. It was slightly disconcerting when the hair moved with a heaviness that was usually absent from it. Had Randir done that with his regular hair, it would have never stopped moving. And yet it fell down his back in perfect, black, princess curls.

 

Elrond did not like it.

 

The lord had never realized just how much he enjoyed Randir’s hair until it was changed. It reminded him of his late wife’s, although her’s was more silver than grey. Although he knew that, ultimately, it was Randir’s decision on what to do with his hair, he despaired over the loss of the silver ash in his halls.

 

‘It looks lovely, Randir,’ said Erestor, reading the distaste on his lord’s face, although Randir could not, ‘Although, I do wonder why you have done it?’

 

‘I wanted to be Elladan and Elrohir and Arwen’s real brother!’ chirped Randir smiling happily.

 

‘Randir,’ said Elrond, ‘Why do you think that you must have dark hair to be their brother?’

 

‘Because you have dark hair, and Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen all have dark hair so to be your son,  _ I  _ must have dark hair,’ said Randir.

 

‘And none of your siblings told you that you need not do that?’ asked Glorfindel, his own spun gold hair falling over his shoulder.

 

‘But,’ objected Elrohir, ‘Why need he not? Do you not have to have the same hair color to be family?’ Elrond stood from the table and smoothed his robes.

 

‘Randir, Elladan, Elrohir, follow me,’ said Elrond turning and striding from the room. The three brothers shared a look, but followed their lord and father out of the room.

 

Elrond lead them through the winding halls of Imladris. Randir waved to Lindir as the small group passed his quarters where he was fixing the strings of his lyre. Lindir waved back, shocked, but he did not say anything. Figwit let out a screech at Randir’s new dark hair, but silenced himself at his twin’s glare. Elrond stopped in his study and pulled back a velvet curtain. Behind it was a lovely portrait of Elrond standing next to a beautiful elleth. Her hair was long and a lovely silver blond, only half a shade lighter than Randir’s natural hair color. Her skin was olive and her lips were spread in a bright smile, one that was mirrored on Elrond’s face. Both held a small child with the dark hair of Elrond and the olive skin of the woman.

 

‘Nana?’ asked Elladan, gently touching the woman’s skirts. Elrond nodded.

 

‘Ada,’ gasped Elrohir, ‘Nana looks like Randir, but with lighter skin.’

 

‘Exactly,’ said Elrond, ‘One need not have the same color of hair in order to be a part of a family. In fact, we very much thought that you, Elladan, and you, Elrohir, would have your naneth’s hair.’

 

‘She is beautiful,’ said Randir, looking at the portrait with wide eyes.

 

‘Indeed, she is. And she does look very much like you,’ said Elrond, ‘Although, admittedly, your skin is darker.’

 

‘Ada,’ said Randir, a steely look in his eye, ‘Is there a way to get the ink out of my hair?’ Elrond smiled gently down at the boy.

 

‘I am sure we can find a way, ion-nin,’ said Elrond.

  
‘Randir! Now you can have your hair _and_ be our brother!’ cheered Elrohir. Elrond sighed.


End file.
